


Five Times Someone was Amazed by Bruce’s Junk (and the One Time Someone Wasn’t)

by 44TayLo



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Bruce gets post-Hulk horny, Bruce's junk is huge, Crack Treated Seriously, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, Everyone has a size kink apparently, F/M, His teammates are concerned, Like legitimately concerned, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, No dub-con here we're all about consent, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Why the fuck did I post this?, You guys stop objectifying Bruce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 23:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17713637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/44TayLo/pseuds/44TayLo
Summary: "'He suddenly found himself trying to explain, 'After the Other Guy, it’s harder to control my thoughts, I just want to eat, sleep, and fuck, and not necessarily in that order, even though I might regret it later, and honestly all I can think about right now is how attractive you are and what you’re talking about, and—''Bruce,' Thor interrupted, effectively shutting him up. 'You aren’t yourself, and I would never take advantage of you like this.''"Bruce is well endowed, and (most of) the Avengers seem overly impressed. His post-Hulk brain is much more interested in this than he'd care to admit. Luckily for him, his teammates are more concerned about his health than anything else.





	Five Times Someone was Amazed by Bruce’s Junk (and the One Time Someone Wasn’t)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I started writing five years ago and would randomly come back to and continue. It's like 1 am, I've had too much coffee, so I'm finally posting...whatever this is. No actual porn, sorry.

1\. Maria Hill:

Most people assumed Bruce was used to regaining consciousness after being the Hulk. They assumed that after years of waking up alone, disoriented, and naked, the novelty of the experience had worn off.  And they were right. It didn’t surprise him to wake up alone in an unfamiliar place anymore. What was often overlooked, however, was the part where Bruce was used to waking up _alone_.

Being part of the Avengers kind of took the whole “alone” bit out of the equation.

The first time Bruce woke up to find someone with him, he had initially been startled. The Avengers had been fighting four mutants that were terrorizing a richer area of upstate New York (luckily, the houses were built far apart from each other, so it was easy to avoid collateral damage).  Of course, Bruce didn’t remember that right away. He probably wouldn’t remember the battle at all, sans any emotionally laden memories the Other Guy decided to share with him. That wasn’t of much consequence, anyway. The fight had been over quickly, and the mutants had been captured.  With nothing left to smash, The Hulk shrank down to Banner before the mutants had even been taken into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. Socializing had always been Bruce’s burden to bare, and the Hulk hoped to keep it that way.

Bruce slowly became aware of himself. The normal thoughts quickly ran through his head, _“Did I hurt anybody? Where am I? What happened?”_

Instinctively, he forced his eyes open and sat up. He was surrounded by tall grass and weeds. A field? He was probably in a field. There didn’t appear to be any destruction. In fact, there were no signs the Hulk had been out, at all. Still dazed, Bruce tried to stand. His legs shook underneath him, but he managed to keep upright.

“Doctor Banner.”

Bruce turned around so quickly that his overly tired muscles almost gave out on him. The owner of the voice was watching him from a few feet away, her gaze roaming over his body and stopping at a very awkward spot.

It was then that Bruce realized the tattered remains of his pants had slipped off when he’d stood. And that none other than Agent Maria Hill of S.H.I.E.L.D. was staring at him. Not only staring, but checking him out. Her posture was as rigid and expression as tight as ever; she was, Bruce noted, completely shameless.

He fought the urge to blush and instead raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Good to have you back,” Hill continued, talking as if she wasn’t still staring at his crotch.

“My eyes are up here, Agent,” Bruce replied, only half joking.

She didn’t shift her gaze. “I’m very aware of that, Doctor. Out of curiosity, does any sort of heart rate elevation cause the transformation? Or does it have to be induced by anger?”

Bruce blinked at her, dumbfounded. “I really don’t think that’s any of your business.” He carefully ignored her gaze, bending down to retrieve his tattered pants. He tied the sorry fabric around his hips in a sort of makeshift loincloth. It wasn’t ideal, but it’d do.

When he’d finished, he looked back at Agent Hill and audibly swallowed. Her stare was possibly even more unnerving than Fury’s.

“This could be important information for me to know if we’re going to continue working together.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. If that were the case, then it should have been one of the questions in the paperwork he’d had to fill out. All of the Avengers had to go through personalized packets in order to continue partnering with S.H.I.E.L.D.

But… he figured it couldn’t hurt anything to answer truthfully.

“It’s triggered by extreme feelings of anger,” Bruce slowly explained. He rubbed at his eyes, not quite believing he was somehow in this situation. “And unfortunately,” he continued, “any other negative emotions tend to make me angry.”

“I see,” Hill replied. She let her arms unfold from her chest. Bruce honestly wasn’t sure when she’d managed it, but Hill had somehow discretely unzipped some of her uniform. He was now graced with an eyeful of her cleavage, and he was positive she had been fully zipped when he’d first spotted her.

“My eyes are up here, Doctor Banner,” Hill mimicked, and the irony was certainly not lost on Bruce. He always felt a little raw after a transformation, and that served to make this whole exchange all the more uncomfortable. Still, he couldn’t help but quirk his lips in a ghost of a smile.

“If you like what you see,” Hill continued, “you should know that if you’re ever looking for a constructive way to let off steam, I’d be happy to take one for the team.”

Bruce could only stare once again, though he continued to smirk.

Hill cleared her throat. Her posture was still stiff and professional, as it had been throughout the exchange. Finally peeling her eyes off of him, she bent down to pick something up and quickly straightened. He instinctively gripped the knot he’d made to fashion the loincloth. Whether it was to keep it secure or in preparation to loosen it, he wasn’t sure. He wouldn’t know until this odd exchange played itself out. Either way, he was too tired and felt too exposed to really let this go anywhere. His repressed libido didn’t seem to care, though. God, it was so much harder to control his carnal urges the first few hours after the Other Guy had retreated.

Instead of furthering their odd banter, Hill quietly handed him the black bundle she’d retrieved. Bruce unfolded the fabric to discover that the bundle was actually a pair of pants.

Hill inclined her head to the right. “Once you’re decent, head a quarter mile in that direction,” she informed him, pointing the same way her head had been tilting. “S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel are taking the mutants into custody with the help of the other Avengers. After that, you are all to fly a quinjet to the Helicarrier and report to Director Fury.”

He simply nodded, taking the pants and unfolding them gratefully.

Hill turned and began walking back towards the battle site. Bruce watched her carefully, wanting to wait until she was far away before putting on the pants, and, if he was honest with himself, enjoying the sight of Maria Hill’s ass in tight spandex. She stopped abruptly, prompting Bruce to return his gaze to the back of her head.

“And Doctor Banner?” she said without turning, “if at any time you feel inclined to take me up on my offer, give me a call.”

Bruce let out a sort of rough, strangled noise that made Hill turn around. She finally broke her composure to smirk at him. After holding his gaze for a few seconds, she took off towards the rest of the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel and left him blessedly alone.

 

2\. Natasha Romanoff:

There were few things that could surprise Bruce. At this point in his life he figured that, while he had hardly seen it all, breaking the law of conservation of mass and fighting aliens took the oddness out of most things.

That being said, there were some things he knew for certain. And when certainty was proven to be wrong, that did manage to startle him. Right then, he was trying to reevaluate everything he thought he’d known about Natasha Romanoff. He had always assumed Natasha was afraid of him because of what had happened on the Helicarrier. The way she tensed when he was too close seemed to support this theory. It was obvious she trying to get over her fear, doing unnecessary things in order to be in the same room with him, but still keeping her distance.

That’s why she was the last person he expected to see when he regained consciousness after a battle.

“Na--,” he tried, but her name caught in his throat. He coughed, then licked his dry, cracked lips before trying again, “…Natasha?”

She was sitting next to him on a rock, muscled legs deceitfully akimbo. “Welcome back, Doc.”

He pushed himself into a sitting position with a groan. His muscles ached, his head pounded, and he was inexplicably cold. It didn’t take long for him to realize that he wasn’t wearing a scrap of clothing, this time. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered.

“Why are you here?” His voice was raspy as he reclaimed control over his vocal chords.

She arched a perfectly kempt eyebrow. “Would you rather wake up alone?”

Bruce considered that a moment before speaking. “Yes…actually.” It was what he’d grown used to. Waking up and finding someone close by when he was so exposed and vulnerable was disconcerting.

She regarded him with open curiosity, her eyes scanning the length of his body. She hummed. “Hill told me this was a sight worth seeing.”

Bruce struggled to recall why Hill would say something like that, then groaned, wiping roughly at his eyes. “It’s really not.”

“I don’t know, she came up with seven and a half to eight reasons supporting her claim.” Her eyes flicked downwards. “I have to say I agree with the verdict.”

He pulled his knees to his chest automatically. He sighed, running a hand through his tangled mess of hair. “I’m much too old for you. For either of you. Though I suppose I appreciate the sentiment,” he finished, his tone lilting and uncertain at the last statement.

Natasha exhaled harshly through her nose, her lips curving into a small smile. “I highly doubt you’re older than me, Doc,” she said flippantly. Ignoring Bruce’s obvious confusion, she continued, “Besides, you don’t have to be young to be impressive.” The assassin continued to smirk, her posture the most relaxed he’d seen it since the incident on the Helicarrier.

“Is size really that big of a deal to women?” he asked, brows furrowed. If they were going to continue this line of conversation, he might as well participate. “Because I’ve come to believe technique is much more important.”

Natasha sobered, her features twisting in thought. “Depends on the kink I suppose,” she finally decided. “Though, this seems to be a very common one.” She propped her head up with a hand. “I’m probably supposed to say I try to abstain from sex with coworkers. But in this line of business, sex seems to be the universally preferred way to unwind. And besides, I think we both deserve to have some fun.”

“As…tempting as that is,” Bruce began, his contradictory thoughts turning lascivious, “I don’t find meaningless sex very appealing.” He didn’t, normally. Right after the Other Guy, his hind brain was much more difficult to control, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself if she actually approached him right now. Bruce swallowed, trying to get ahold of himself. “Besides,” he continued in what he hoped was an even, teasing tone, “isn’t that what Clint is for?”

She sighed dramatically through a small, crooked grin that crinkled her features in an unfairly appealing way. “I suppose, but we like to mix it up, sometimes. He’d probably be jealous if I jumped you without talking to him about it first, though.”

Bruce was spared the task of trying to react properly to that admission when Natasha reached for a bundle next to the rock. She quickly tossed it to him. “Better cover up before Clint sees us. You know, with his incredible vision and all,” she joked. “Although, I’m not sure if he’d be more jealous that I’m checking you out, or that he _isn’t_.”

He balked a little at that, trying to ignore not only his surprise that Clint swung both ways, but also the way his libido seemed to perk up because of it. He repressed a shiver at the thought of not only Natasha’s, but also the archer’s keen stare roaming appreciatively over him in this state. His brain was being such a bitch, right now.

He thankfully picked up the clothes, trying to slip them on while avoiding eye contact. Natasha, in an extremely contradictory gesture, had the decency to look away while Bruce dressed himself. Once fully clothed, Bruce forced himself to stand up. It was as difficult as it always was after a transformation, and he gratefully accepted Natasha’s help when she threw one of Bruce’s arms around her shoulders to steady him for the first couple of steps. After that, they walked back to the jet side-by-side. There was a valiant attempt on his part to ignore their awkward conversation, but try as he might, his gaze turned to Natasha’s gorgeous eyes and supple lips more than once.

Finally on the quinjet, Natasha left him alone on a bench and climbed into the pilot’s seat. He let his eyes slip closed, listening to the rest of the team return after helping clean-up. He managed to fall asleep as soon as they were in the air.

 

3\. Clint Barton:

Bruce had been on the run for close to six years before joining the Avengers. During that time, he’d awoken to the sound of horrible things after an incident: screaming sirens, wailing children, indistinct calls of, “There he is!”

But there was none of that today. This time, he’d awoken to a bass voice singing with a country timbre. Bruce winced as the country music echoed indistinctly in his ears. He’d much rather deal with the sirens.

Fully awake, Bruce propped himself into a sitting position with a groan. He blearily opened his eyes. The offensive music was coming from none other than Clint, who was tapping his foot and singing a few feet away from Bruce.

“Why?” Bruce asked, letting himself fall back down onto the grass he’d woken up in.

The music ceased immediately, and Bruce could now hear the gentle thud of approaching footsteps. Eventually, they stopped near his head. With a sigh, Bruce forced himself to open his eyes and meet Clint’s stare.

Only, Clint wasn’t staring at his face when Bruce finally pried his eyes open.

Bruce groaned. “Seriously, why?”

“Why what?” Clint asked, snapping his eyes away from Bruce’s dick to stare back.

“The…the country music. And now you’re...” Bruce made an obscure gesture with his hands before letting his arms flop back down to the ground with more force than necessary.

“Okay, hang on. First of all, I was singing that country song from the comedian we watched, who I know you liked. And country is not automatically bad, okay? I like lots of _true_ country songs. And secondly, Nat vetted you last time, so I’m now allowed to add you to my list of sexual exceptions if I so choose. And Banner,” Clint cut himself off with a low whistle. “I definitely so choose.”

Bruce continued to stare dumbly at him. He struggled to process the new information about not only Clint, but also his and Natasha’s relationship dynamics. It raised more than a few personal questions. Instead of voicing any of them, Bruce heard himself ask, “So size is a big deal to men, too?”

Fucking damn, his sex drive was going to be the death of him.

Clint smiled, showing off that endearingly handsome, Southern grin of his. “Depends on the guy. But for me, it’s a definite bonus at the very least.”

Bruce finally forced himself to sit back up. “You want to have sex with me,” Bruce stated in disbelief.

“To be fair, the whole team’s now on my exemption list,” he explained. Bruce watched him look away thoughtfully while twirling an arrow in his left hand. “And Pepper,” he added as an afterthought. “But that’s a little different, since Nat and I are trying to see who can seduce her first.”

Bruce rubbed at his eyes. It was always difficult for him to process information directly after an incident, and he would have had a hard time processing what Clint was saying even if he _wasn’t_ disoriented.

“Tony’s probably not happy about that,” he finally mumbled. He was staring at the space just above Clint’s head, avoiding the man’s gorgeous blue eyes that kept fluttering and his immaculate biceps that he kept subtly flexing.

Clint snorted. And God, even that contained a certain amount of classic, Southern charm. “What they’ve got going on is pretty casual. Tony’s actually got a lot of money on Natasha, the rich bastard.”

Now Bruce had to wonder how common exemption list were, because he’d definitely assumed they were only in sitcoms.

Clint laughed, a rich sound that came from his stomach. “You’d be surprised, Doc.”

Bruce furrowed his brows at that. He quickly realized he’d voiced his question out loud. Before Bruce could think too much about that, Clint caught his hand in his own. “There you go, nice and steady,” Clint muttered as he gently pulled him to his feet. “You sure are out of it when you come back, huh?”

“Depends. The Other Guy must’ve been out for a while, or the fight was particularly rough.”

Clint hummed. “Not really. This is the second time in a week he’s been out though, yeah? Did you even really recover from the first time?”

Bruce just shook his head.

Clint gave him a worried look, and Bruce struggled to ignore his sluggish brain, which was suggesting he kiss away Clint’s frown, then maybe see how legitimate his proposition was.

Oblivious to the mental battle Bruce was participating in, Clint knelt down and unzipped a pocket on the outside of his quiver. As soon as he unzipped it, a pair of athletic shorts that had been rolled into an impossibly tight ball popped out of the compartment. Clint held them out to Bruce. “Come on, let’s get some pants on you and head home.”

Bruce quickly pulled the shorts on, and then followed Clint in the direction of the quinjet. The silence sounded good to Bruce’s frazzled mind. Relishing it, he allowed himself to let out a deep sigh. It was, of course, that moment that the quinjet came into view, and Clint decided to casually add, “By the way Banner, that’s an open invitation. If you ever decide you want to do the Harlem shake again, just give me a ring.”

Bruce let out something between a choke and a laugh. A dashing smile overtook Clint’s face, and he shot Bruce a wink before jogging towards the plane. Utterly confused, Bruce watched as the archer disappeared inside. He allowed himself an indeterminate amount of time to process the ridiculousness that was his life, before he finally sighed and forced himself to board the quinjet.

 

4\. Thor:

The media liked to portray Thor as a sort of loveable oaf. The loveable part wasn’t off the mark, but Thor was far from stupid. How could he be, when his realm was centuries ahead of Earth in terms of science and technology? Not to mention the fact that Thor had already been alive for hundreds of Earth’s years.

The idea that he wasn’t all too bright stemmed from cultural differences. For example, Thor wasn’t aware that it was considered socially unacceptable to chew with your mouth open. In his culture, eating was considered a social event meant for enjoyment and celebration. Asgardians weren’t particularly concerned with whether or not they were chewing with their mouths open while feasting and sharing stories of battle.

Bruce knew there were many cultural differences Thor was still adjusting to. That didn’t mean he wasn’t surprised when he woke up from a battle on Thor’s lap with the Asgardian’s cape around his shoulders.

He blinked, hand shakily coming up to grip the edge of the red fabric. His brain was practically offline, this time. It was his third transformation in nine days, and he felt like he still hadn’t recovered from the first one.

“Banner, how do you fare?” Thor asked in a soft, gentle tone.

Bruce looked up at him, his brows drawn together. He cleared his dry throat before saying stupidly, “I’m on your lap.”

Thor raised an eyebrow. “Aye,” he said with a small smirk. “What about it?”

“I’m not wearing pants.”

Thor laughed, though even that was subdued. Bruce realized he was deliberately keeping his volume down, probably picking up on the fact that Bruce wasn’t feeling well. He didn’t have much of a headache this time, but he was extra sensitive to stimuli.

“No, you’re not,” Thor confirmed. “They didn’t survive the fight, I’m afraid. Speaking of which, Hulk fought well,” Thor paused, frowning. His sky blue eyes scanned Bruce’s exhausted face. “Though, I’m worried about how his frequent appearances seem to be affecting you.”

It was Bruce’s turn to let out a small laugh. He rubbed at his stinging eyes and rested back against Thor’s broad, muscled chest. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Then enlighten me.”

Bruce made a small noise in the back of his throat, letting his head tip back against Thor’s shoulder and his eyes slip closed. He didn’t really want to talk about it. “Thanks for letting me use your cape, but why didn’t you…you know, wrap it around my waist?”

“You were shivering,” Thor answered. Bruce shivered again as he felt Thor’s powerful, bass voice reverberate through the man’s chest. “I thought you’d conserve body heat better if I wrapped it around your torso and settled you on my lap.” He paused, before continuing in a much lighter tone, “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re very well endowed. Are you certain you’re not part Asgardian? If I’m not mistaken, that’s very impressive for a Midgardian.”

Bruce sat up at that, turning to give Thor a weary look over his shoulder.

The blond was grinning, though he seemed uncertain. “Your expression tells me this isn’t a normal topic of conversation amongst friends on Midgard.”

“…Not really,” Bruce admitted.

“I see.” Thor tilted his head, a small frown forming. “I need to apologize to Agent Coulson.”

Bruce decided he was too tired to ask if and how Thor had gotten an eyeful of Coulson’s junk. And honestly, he probably didn’t want to know.

“It’s alright. You aren’t the first one on the team to do it. I mean, you’re the first to do it while I’m sitting on your lap, but you definitely aren’t the first.”

Thor regarded him once again, still frowning. “I assumed that Midgardians didn’t celebrate victory through celebratory passion with fellow warriors?”

Bruce felt his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

“If I’d known, I would have taken you and the others to bed ages ago,” Thor mused.

“We don’t,” Bruce quickly corrected. His brain screamed at him that he was an idiot. Thor had the body of a god, and Bruce was certain he probably fucked like one.

Thor studied his eyes for a moment. “You don’t,” Thor repeated. “But I have a feeling you’d like to, Banner?”

Bruce swallowed hard. This was dangerous. He was post-Hulk horny, naked except for a cape, and sitting on Thor’s lap. Thor who was all muscle, golden hair, and brilliant smiles. Bruce found himself staring at Thor’s lips, mind wandering and lacking the energy to really stop it.

He suddenly found himself trying to explain, “After the Other Guy, it’s harder to control my thoughts, I just want to eat, sleep, and fuck, and not necessarily in that order, even though I might regret it later, and honestly all I can think about right now is how attractive you are and what you’re talking about, and—”

“Bruce,” Thor interrupted, effectively shutting him up. “You aren’t yourself, and I would never take advantage of you like this.” He smiled, some of the seriousness leaving his expression. “But, I’m sure if we were of our right minds, it’d be a pleasurable experience. If you still feel the same way when you’re more in control of yourself, feel free to approach me.”

Bruce shivered. He clutched the cape more tightly around himself, though he didn’t think it was because of the cold.

“I have clothes for you.” Thor quite suddenly stood, lifting Bruce with him and then helping the brunet stand. Bruce was extremely shaky on his feet, and Thor refused to let him stand on his own. He helped Bruce put the clothes on, and kept a steadying arm around him all the way back to the quinjet. Bruce didn’t remember anything that happened after he sat down.

 

5\. Steve Rogers:

Bruce hadn’t been this exhausted in a long time. He knew he must have transformed multiple times in a short period to feel this godawful. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make his brain processes what had happened before the last transformation. The last time he’d felt like this, he’d been captured by Ross and forced to transform over and over again, until finally the Hulk was so angry, he was strong enough to rip the adamantium cage apart like tissue paper.

Ross.

Bruce bolted to his feet, looking around wildly.

“Hey.”

His frantic gaze settled on Steve. He was a few feet away, but walking towards him with both hands up in a submissive gesture. His uniform was dirty and splattered in some places with blood. There was a cut across his left cheek, but other than that, he looked fine. Bruce figured the blood either wasn’t his, or his wounds were already healed. Thanks to the serum, that last remaining cut would be gone in an hour or so, too.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Steve continued. Bruce realized he was still walking towards him. “The Other Guy did great. Everything’s fine.”

Bruce covered his face with a shaky hand and sighed. “I thought…” He didn’t finish his sentence, knees buckling and sending him onto all fours.

“Shit, Banner, are you alright?” Steve asked, sounding very far away.

Bruce raised his head just enough to see that the blond had knelt down next to him, and was, in fact, very close. His perfect blue eyes were wide with concern, lips slightly parted. Bruce figured that for as beautiful as Steve looked, Bruce himself must’ve looked proportionally shitty.

“I’m fine. Fine. Give me a second. Adrenaline…” he muttered, waving Steve off with a hand. He lowered himself to the ground and flipped over onto his back to try and center himself.

“Adrenaline dump. Got it.” Steve shifted, sitting down next to Bruce. He didn’t sound very convinced.

“Yeah,” Bruce agreed anyway. “Something like that.”

“That happened to a lot of us during the war,” Steve explained, his expression strangely wistful. “’Course, we usually blew off steam by sleeping with the nurses or other soldiers.”

Bruce perked up at that, eyeing Steve carefully.

Steve caught his expression and raised an eyebrow in challenge. “What? You think sex was invented in the fifties? I went on tour with a band of showgirls before serving. I’ve been around a bit,” Steve said a little defensively. “Don’t tell Stark, though. I’m waiting for the right moment to burst his bubble.”

“Won’t,” Bruce promised. “You ever think about doing that with the team?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Steve grinned that sly, lopsided grin of his. “What makes you think I don’t? Natasha and Clint have a very open relationship.”

Bruce sucked in a sharp breath.

Steve chuckled, nodding his head a little. But when he brought his gaze back to Bruce, his eyes were tense. “Thor told me he thinks you’re letting the Other Guy out too often. That you aren’t getting enough recovery time, and it’s exhausting you.”

Bruce licked his lips nervously. He had been hoping Thor wouldn’t say anything to anyone about what had happened a few days ago. Looking back, he was more than a little embarrassed. He’d apologized to Thor yesterday, but the blond was adamant that he had nothing to apologize for. He’d even reminded Bruce that he still had an open invitation to sleep with him. Then he’d suggested they could set up a prior agreement while Bruce was in control of himself if he wanted to sleep with Thor post-battle to help his recovery. Bruce had been flattered and appreciative, but he had to think about it.

“He say anything else?” he finally asked Steve.

“He said you’re endowed like an Asgardian. Then asked if talking about endowment was normal on Earth, because he had to be sure it wasn’t before planning his revenge. I guess Clint told him it was.”

Bruce snorted a small laugh. “For Clint, it might be.”

“That’s what I told him.” Steve paused, his expression turning serious again as he stared intensely into Bruce’s eyes. “He also told me you might proposition me, but that you also might not be in your right mind, so I should say no. Which is kind of a shame, because I’ve been told I have a thing for smart brunets. And because Thor was right, about you being well endowed, I mean. Was it that big before the accident?”

Bruce just raised a tired eyebrow.

“That wasn’t appropriate, sorry,” Steve said, not looking apologetic in the least.

“Yeah, it was. That big before, I mean,” Bruce answered in a long-suffering tone.

“Congrats.”

Bruce managed a weak laugh at that. “Thanks, I grew it myself.”

Steve chuckled again, before leveling him with yet another serious look. “Are you okay, though? Honestly?”

Bruce sighed. It was easier to ignore his brain when no one was obviously flirting with him and when there wasn’t any skin to skin contact. And he really didn’t feel that shitty. He’d definitely felt shittier on the run, after transforming without having eaten in days.

“I’m fine. It’s rough transforming frequently, but I can handle it. If the Other Guy’s needed, it’s worth it.”

Steve stared at him for what felt like minutes before he finally sighed. “Fine. But don’t overdo it, Bruce. If we can get by with Thor as our only heavy hitter, I’m benching you, got it?”

“I feel like two sports metaphors in one sentence is too many, but yeah.”

“Good. I’ve got clothes for you. Let’s get you to the quinjet so you can go home and rest.”

It took them a few minutes, but Steve managed to help him wrestle on pants and a sweater. Bruce still couldn’t walk very well on his own, so Steve ended up supporting some of his weight. Or he was, up until Bruce stumbled and Steve barely managed to catch him before he ate shit. After that, Steve ignored Bruce’s weak protests and carried him.

“See, now this is the kind of thing that’ll make me want to proposition you,” Bruce mumbled. “You could at least carry me over your shoulder or something instead of like a damsel in distress.”

“Bruce. Shut up,” Steve demanded. The fucker wasn’t even out of breath. “If you want to proposition me after you’ve slept for a week and eaten something, you know where to find me. And you definitely should. Because I wasn’t kidding about having a thing for brunets. Or you being well endowed.”

Bruce just groaned. He buried his face into the Steve’s chest and tried to ignore the feeling of Steve’s muscled body against him. He was asleep before they even made it to the quinjet.

 

+1 Tony Stark:

The first thing Bruce registered when he woke up was the taste of vomit in his mouth. The second thing he registered was that he needed to throw up (presumably) again. He rolled over, dry-heaving. Nothing came up. He’d definitely thrown up more than once, already.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Bruce forced his eyes open and was faced with a very irritated Tony. “Possibly. Why this time?” he asked, before dry-heaving again.

Tony stood in front of him with his hands on his hips, like some kind of disappointed soccer mom. “Steve said he talked to you. Why did you lie to him?”

“Didn’t lie,” Bruce replied when he could. “Normal. ‘s all normal. Worth it if you guys need him.”

“This. This is normal? What the fuck, Bruce.”

Bruce didn’t really have a response to that, so he just dry-heaved again.

“And what’s this about you getting super horny post-Hulk? Because I’ve been super horny, believe me, and it’s never made me vomit.”

“Horny, hungry, tired. Hind brain’s more in control. Think I made myself sick,” Bruce said before closing his eyes. He quickly opened them again. “Where am I?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tony muttered. “You’re in your room at the Tower.”

At least that explained why the ground was so comfy, he was probably in bed. Bruce frowned. “Why’re you here?”

“Because you have a Hulk-hangover. And I have the most experience with taking care of hangovers. We were also worried you were going to choke on your own vomit, so someone had to stay with you.”

“Thanks.” Bruce sighed, nuzzling into the pillow.

“Don’t mention it. I’ve been on the other side plenty of times, just ask Rhodey.” Tony paused before asking, “Why didn’t you take care of yourself between transformations? I know you didn’t catch up on your sleep or eat enough. I was with you in the lab for a few of those days.”

“Never have. Don’t know. Feels weird,” Bruce replied, because apparently he wasn’t capable of forming sentences longer than two or three words at the moment. He frowned, grumbling a little. He was really hot, he realized. But he also didn’t want to throw off the blankets because he felt pretty safe under them.

“You should.  You have to take care of yourself,” Tony insisted. Bruce’s foggy mind pointed out that Tony’s rambling meant he had legitimately been worried. It also suggested he keep staring at the engineer’s gorgeous, coffee colored eyes. Fuck, coffee sounded good…

“You literally break the law of conservation of mass,” Tony continued, mistaking Bruce’s intense stare as a sign that he was paying avid attention to his words. “That has to take a crazy toll on your body.”

“Probably,” Bruce admitted.

Tony sighed. “You’re infuriating me, now.”

“Getting a little hot under the collar, Stark?” Bruce asked, grinning.

“You are not allowed to flirt with me until you’ve slept for a fucking week and eaten your body weight in carbs.”

Bruce tried to push himself into a sitting position, but barely managed to get his arm underneath him before collapsing back onto the bed. He inhaled sharply as his overly-tired arm muscles pulled strangely.

Tony was by his side in an instant, gently maneuvering him into a sitting position, and propping an extra pillow behind his back. The juxtaposition of the hard calluses of the man’s hands and the soft, careful touches made Bruce hum low in his throat.

Tony sighed. “You know, I’ve had to hear every single member of this fucking team rave about how big your dick is for the last week and a half. Even Maria fucking Hill, who by the way has the emotional spectrum of an automaton, has mentioned it.”

Bruce smirked, though he had a feeling the smug look fell short due to his fatigued state. Still, it must have worked a little, because Tony leaned in close, one hand resting on the nape of his neck.

“But you know what? I’m much more interested in that big brain of yours,” he whispered in the exhausted man’s ear. “Because Bruce, as great as your dick is, I’ve been around enough to have seen it all before. But your brain? That’s one of a kind. And I’d really, really like to see if I can fuck you hard enough to make you forget the difference between a boson and a quark.”

Bruce’s pupils were blown wide, his breathing a little shallow. He tried to take deeper breaths as Tony pulled back, giving him a smug look of his own.

“That wouldn’t be much of a challenge when you’re so stoned from Hulking out you don’t even recognize your own room. So we’re going to wait until you’ve recovered. After that, we’ll see if you’re still game.” Tony wrinkled his nose. “Also, you should definitely brush your teeth. You still kind of reek of vomit.”

Bruce ran his tongue along his teeth and grimaced at the taste. “That’s valid.”

Tony snorted at that. He sat down on a chair by the bed and Bruce was vaguely aware that he was telling Jarvis to order food. Sleep was quickly claiming him once again. He didn’t mind, though. Now he knew that once he had recovered, he could seek Tony out and take him up on his offer. He may have been willing to have sex with just about anyone post-Hulk, but Tony…well, Tony had been the object of his affection for a long time.

The fact that he was more impressed with his brain than his dick didn’t hurt, either.

**Author's Note:**

> (The Harlem shake joke absolutely shows how old parts of this fic are, I know.)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated.


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